Before I Wake
by Tripleguess
Summary: Pre Jak II oneshot. For one nameless, faceless citizen, the nightmare is almost over. Grim, but not entirely negative. First story of Fever Arc.


**Before I Wake**  
_by Tripleguess  
3 May 2005_

She sat crosslegged on the cold stone bench, gazing absently at a crack in the floor. Other prisoners in the cell block tensed and whimpered at the occasional tread of heavy boots in the hallway outside, but she appeared not to notice.

In her mind the crack widened and swelled with clear water, washing the stench of this madhouse away. She stood up, so slowly -- hadn't been able to do that for ages -- and stepped forward, summer-sweet liquid curling around her legs. As it touched her skin, cleanness and freshness spread upward, muscle tone swelling and scars melting away like fog before the morning sun.

The stream lapped at the cell walls and ate them like butter, and slowly the world expanded, rolling over her miniature hellhole, creating itself to the horizon on every side. She savored the feel of the morning breeze against her body, lifting her face into its welcome caress. Birdsong and forest sounds seeped into her consciousness, wakening as from memory, breathing life into her mind.

The feel of weight in her hands surprised her, and she looked down to find herself holding a net. Of course; if she didn't finish emptying snares by the time the sun crested those treetops, she'd be in big trouble. There were two squirming trout in the snare. She strung them with practiced ease on the hemp line she kept on her belt for that purpose, fingers guiding the steel tip through each gill without hesitation.

She emptied the rest of the snares in short order, her steps carrying her unerringly to each one, the routine comforting in its familiarity. Catches were good today; Emerk would be pleased. Then she waded to shore, the sand soft underfoot, and sat down on a drift log to clean and gut her catch. But the first fish she reached for grew large and dark, clamping a heavy hand on her wrist.

"You can't have those anymore," he rumbled, nodding to her long hunting knife. "Baron's orders. Only certified personnel may carry weapons. Obey and be happy."

She tried to explain that it was a mistake, that the knife was only for cleaning game and shaving kindling and had never been lifted against any living thing in anger and that the forest settlers had lived among each other in friendly peace for as long as anyone could remember. But he made her give him the hunting knife and she had to fetch a kitchen knife from the hut instead once he was gone. She wondered if she should have pointed out that some of her kitchen knives were longer and heavier than the one he'd taken, but decided that he would have just taken them too. So she cleaned the fish with a kitchen knife and hoped that no more of them would grow ugly and dark.

The sun was over the treetops now; arguing with the soldier had made her late for milking the goats. She hurried to wrap the fillets in pebbleweed fronds and lay them on the hearth to bake. She wanted to tell Emerk about the hunting knife but he must have been out by the waterfall because she couldn't see him anywhere. Checking for arrowgrass tubers, maybe.

She went to the pen to start milking -- the goats were bleating impatiently -- but a heavy hand stopped hers on the latch.

"Sorry, ma'am; we're confiscating your livestock. They're needed to feed the brave soldiers who are even now battling metalhead swarms."

She tried to protest that she needed those goats, that without them her children would have no milk and her family no butter, no cheese or chevon, no good leather to make clothes for winter. But he took them all anyway. "Baron's orders," was all he said, though she thought he sounded regretful. "Sacrifice for your city."

So she stood there by the empty pen, bewildered and helpless and wondering what her children would drink for their breakfast. Water, she supposed, until they got more goats somehow. But what good would getting new livestock do if this Baron just took them away again? They would have to get by on plain water.

But the children need milk and good food to grow strong! she pleaded, and looked at the sun fearfully. It was noon already; how strange! but the air was cold. Had autumn arrived prematurely? She drew her light tunic about her more tightly and wondered again where Emerk was. He should have been back hours ago, and the sun had a malevolent gleam that frightened her. She cringed as it swelled and burst upon her, screaming as razor claws raked her upflung arms.

It was a small metalhead, merely housecat size, but she had never seen one before and its ferocity shocked her. One hand flew to her empty belt and the hunting knife that was no longer there before she came to her senses and snatched the beast up by its tail, slapping it against a nearby tree with all her strength. The creature was hideously durable, but three broken vertebrae later it finally stilled. She flung it away, staggered to the stream bank and vomited, then started upstream at a dead run, determined this time to find Emerk.

He was there at the waterfall and his face brightened to see her, and she felt sick with the news she had to tell. But her shadow rose up between them before she could finish groping for words and pushed them apart.

"All able-bodied men must join in the fight to protect Haven City against Kor and his metalheads," it told her gruffly. "Resist and be destroyed."

This time she was too numb to argue or protest. She could only watch in frozen helplessness as they took her Emerk away, trembling while blood dripped down from her elbows and soiled the crystal water. She had to think of the children, for there'd be no crop without Emerk and no one to harvest it even if there was, and it was cold and the sun was setting and it was dark, so very dark.

She could not work the land and fight off metalheads without him. She knew without being told that the other forest folk were in just as much trouble, for without the men's labor, the settlers would starve. So she took the children to Haven City and watched the moon rise cold and full while she searched high and low for a decent job, then a tolerable job, then just any job at all in the refugee-glutted city, finally landing one at a noisy waterfront saloon where the patrons were more interested in molesting the staff than in eating their meals. It is better inside the walls.

She swallowed her anger and put food on their ratty slum apartment table and watched stonily as the children came home from school reciting the maxims of Baron Praxis and bearing the marks of their teacher's quirt, until she scraped up enough to have them smuggled out via the Underground, pawning her wedding silver and the gimmal ring Emerk had given her. She didn't ask where they sent the children and they didn't tell her, though part of her died when they took them away.

Then the moon leaned down with casual indifference and told her that Emerk was dead, the words burning their way from the icy white disk into what was left of her heart. That was the night a patron took one liberty too many and she finally snapped, driving a long kitchen knife through his plans for the evening. The fact that he'd happened to be Krimson Guard gave her grim satisfaction even as they hauled her away in cuffs. Let that teach him to take her hunting knife.

X X X

She heard steps again and knew they were for her, though she did not react or make any move to get up. The rough voices came from very far away.

"...need this cell... overcrowded... special catch, just a kid... make it quick."

It didn't matter. The crack widened again and swallowed the moon and the world washed away in golden warmth until all that was left was herself -- and Emerk, face alight, holding his hands out and calling to her in the glory of dawn.

It was morning.

**-The End**

A/N: No flames, please, but reader reactions are of great interest to me. Did you identify with a character? How did this or that make you feel? And so on.

Feedback is most welcome and appreciated, but don't feel obligated. Just enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Baron Praxis, the Krimzon Guard, and all other _Jak II _characters belong to Naughty Dog. This fanfic is neither acknowledged nor endorsed by Naughty Dog. **_Before I Wake_ **itself is fan domain and may be freely recopied and archived. Also, anyone interested in taking the idea and running with it is welcome to do so.

**To my kind reviewers: **Thank you in advance for your kind feedback. Under the new rules I have no way of responding to anonymous reviews, but I still appreciate them. So thanks!


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